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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161098">Good Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydraNoMago/pseuds/HydraNoMago'>HydraNoMago</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Bittersweet, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Ryan is a really strong person, Steven is a mother hen, Too Many Spirits, references, shyan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:03:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydraNoMago/pseuds/HydraNoMago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan felt wired in his own body, and wished to fly off to somewhere far away as soon as possible. Steven was immensely worried about his agitated state. Shane….Well. Shane needs Ryan to be brave. </p><p> </p><p>[ANGST and some fluff] —  you have been warned</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Good Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>“Who needs another Shyan fic?” Us. We all do. </p><p>Littered with references (two mentioned, one not but is a very popular British TV show), see if you can spot them all!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>If only I knew where to go,</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I could fly from this place.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>~ Goethe</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There was something to be said about the way people were forced to toil day and night for a living, exhausting themselves, body and soul, in order to exchange pieces of paper with no intrinsic value for goods and services. Today was not the day to discuss such heavy matters. Ryan was already trudging his feet heavily through the slog of work; he certainly did not need to add a hefty discussion on the drawbacks of capitalism and the impossible hope for a fair economic system on top of it. He could feel his pulse thrumming behind his eyes from staring at the computer screen too long, and pinched the bridge of his nose in a pathetic attempt to alleviate it.</p><p> </p><p>Flicking his eyes to the clock on the wall, he groaned outwardly at the time. Gears begun to turn in his head, clicking around a recurring thought he had had since the end of last week; when he was curled up underneath the biting spray of his shower and he pretended to himself that he was not crying, despite being alone. Surreptitiously, he stretched and crooked his neck, glancing around thehalf-empty office. No one would fault him if he gave in this time, would they?</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going?” came Steven’s concerned voice opposite him, one hand lifting an ear off his heavy headphones. He knew that the other was worried, and was grateful that Steven was being a good friend, but he really, <em>really</em>, needed some time off for just himself. “Yeah,” he replied, nodding more easily than he felt, “I think I’m gonna hit the sack early tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Steven sent him a dubious look over the frame of his glasses, but he was wary of pushing Ryan any further. He noticed the way that Ryan was jittering, the nonstop shaking of his leg which sent vibrations up the frames of their desks and the way his fingers could not stop toying with anything. The tight set to his jaw and the slightly frenzied desperation in his eyes however, made Steven want to force him to stay; just so someone could keep an eye on him. Steven pursed his lips and stared for a moment longer, debating the pros and cons of allowing an obviously antsy Ryan go. In the end, for fear of being overbearing and cornering him, Steven conceded; much to Ryan’s relief. “Call me if anything’s up okay?” Ryan nodded and was hiking his backpack over his shoulder before Steven called his name again. “Ryan,” he said deliberately, slowly. “I mean <em>anything</em>, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Ryan swallowed, hating the way everyone left in the office sent him concerned glances. His voice was clipped and perfunctory; he wanted to be able to breathe again, “I’ll be fine. Thanks. See you guys tomorrow.” With that, his feet took him out of the building, faster and faster away; anywhere but here. Preferably, somewhere with copious amounts of alcohol in it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I’m hoooooommmmmeeeee!” he sang drunkenly, tossing his keys into a bowl by the doorway and violently toeing his shoes off. His vision was swimming and his stomach was churning with nothing in it except booze and a bowl of peanuts he had monopolised at the bar. He tripped while making his way to the living room, but caught himself by scrabbling on the wall, and counted himself lucky that his carpet did not see the contents of his gut. “I need some food,” he mumbled to no one in particular, fingernails scratching lightly against the roughness of the wall. “But first,” he pushed himself upright abruptly, and blinked hard as everything yawed from left to right, “first I need to piss.”</p><p> </p><p>He stepped over the pile of laundry precariously as he made his way to the bathroom, ignoring the stacked dishes in the sink on the way and the layer of dust which coated his collection of figures on one of the shelves. <em>Piss, then food, and possibly a movie</em>, he reminded himself on a loop.</p><p> </p><p>Calling the pizza place was a no-brainer, but it was the pizza choice that stumped him. He could just order a pepperoni and cheese, then devour the whole thing in front of the television; but a feeling nagged at the base of his gut. Logically, he knew that Shane wouldn’t be coming over since they had not planned it beforehand; but it was like hearing the distant voice of a familiar stranger as he placed an order for a supreme pizza as well. It was even more disassociating to him when he popped a small bag of buttered popcorn into the microwave, a ritual that both he and Shane shared before the movies.</p><p> </p><p>Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, then rubbed at his eyes. His floor needed cleaning too.<em> I must be going mad</em>, he told himself, but even his internal voice was entirely unconvincing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He jolted awake to the sound of crunching popcorn and a high, reedy laugh which flipped his stomach and accelerated his heart simultaneously. Squinting against the low, yellow light, he moved his jaw around to ease some of the stiffness. “What are you doing here?” he rasped, recoiling at the sour taste of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, sunshine,” Shane sang obnoxiously with a raised brow in his direction. He threw another handful of popcorn into his mouth, crunching along happily as he turned his gaze back to the screen where Chris had just found photos of Rose with multiple other partners in ‘<em>Get Out</em>’. “Want me to rewind?” Shane inquired through a mouthful of popcorn, one hand reaching for the remote tossed haphazardly on the couch behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Ryan replied groggily, and attempted to sit up without feeling the need to puke. “I’ve seen it a couple times already.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane snorted. “<em>We’ve</em> seen it a couple times already. Doesn’t make it any less good.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan nodded absentmindedly at the statement, picking bits of semi-hardened cheese off his t-shirt. He wanted to ask the other again, wanted to know why he was here at this hour, wanted to know why he was eating popcorn and pizza at his house without prior notice, wanted to know why <em>now</em>; but on a level that he would not admit to anyone else, he was scared. Shane was not the type to drop in unannounced; something had to be wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of asking any of the questions which buzzed around his addled brain, what came out was: “How did you get in here?”</p><p> </p><p>Shane grinned slyly, taking his eyes off the screen to face Ryan, “Magic.” He waggled his eyebrows at Ryan’s frustrated huff. “What about you?” He asked in a choked tone as he passed the popcorn bowl over, and took a dramatic sniff of the air. “How did you manage to smell so much like a historically accurate brewery?”</p><p> </p><p>“Magic,” Ryan replied with a twinkle in his eye. He munched on some popcorn to disguise the sudden surge of warmth which came with Shane’s amused wheeze.</p><p> </p><p>“Well if you must know, Mr. Bergara, I arrived here in a motorised carriage called a <em>taxi</em>, and I let myself in with a key; which may I remind you,” he said pointedly, reaching over to grab at a handful of popcorn and pointing a finger at Ryan, “you gave me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, no shit that’s what happened Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were the one who asked!” cried Shane in false indignation. </p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t you heard of something called a rhetorical question?”</p><p> </p><p>“Haven’t you heard that drinking too much kills your liver?”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan scowled and lobbed the buttery popcorn at Shane’s big head, patting himself on the back as some landed in the other’s hair. “Shut up and watch the movie, big guy.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You really do need to clean up one of these days,” Shane muttered in a mocking register as he eyed the mess scattered all around the apartment. “You can’t always live like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan grumbled a “I live how I want”, before working his way through the cold and stale pizza. He wanted to reheat it, but was too lazy to move from his comfortable position on the floor beside Shane, both of them surrounded by strewn popcorn; in an island of their own.</p><p> </p><p>Comfortable silence descended, a silence that was as familiar and unobtrusive as a well-worn blanket. Ryan watched Shane pick through the last dregs of popcorn with long fingers and a small, contended smile gracing his lips; and wished not for the first time, that he could bottle these moments forever. A lump formed in his throat, and he willed himself not to shed any tears.</p><p> </p><p>“I see you’re wearing your infamous Ryan Bergara t-shirt,” Shane remarked offhandedly. Ryan saw the light creases which folded around his eyes when he smiled, and reigned in the urge to kiss them like he always wanted to. “I’ve missed that stupid drawing,” he breathed, voice slipping into a warm haze. A screen clouded over his face as he reached out to tug at the edge of the white t-shirt. “I miss doing ‘<em>Too Many Spirits</em>’ with you too.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was the underlying current of sadness in Shane’s tone of voice, or the way the low yellow light cast hard shadows on the planes of that face he loved so much, or the alcohol still sloshing around his system, or the way his heart broke at the thought of the ever-present shadow of <em>what could be</em>, instead of what was. His hand curled around Shane’s cold wrist, tightly, afraid that the other would do what he always did: leave. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers in admittance, not able to pull his eyes away from Shane’s stuttering gaze full of guilt and pain. He licks his lips to wet them, then says it with more sturdiness, hoping to hammer the truth of it into Shane’s head. “I’ve missed you, Shane Madej.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane’s face crumpled, his brows knitting close together, lip wobbling slightly as if it strained to hold back the words which threatened to tumble out. His own eyes were watery, and when he breathed it was an easy staccato. Gently, slowly, he curled their hands together, and lifted Ryan’s hand to his own lips, pressing a soft kiss to slightly sticky fingers. His eyelids fluttered closed at the contact, and he held on to the way Ryan’s breath hitched, and the warmth of his fingers against his lips. “I’ve missed you too, Ryan Bergara,” he murmured reverently, lifting his eyes to stare into Ryan’s. “So much.”</p><p> </p><p>A look passed between them, and Ryan huffed a hollow laugh even as tears slid down his cheeks. There was a tick in his jaw, a jumping pulse point. “But you won’t stay,” he said matter-of-factly, knowing the answer no matter how much his bones ached for the opposite.</p><p> </p><p>The expression on Shane’s face was nothing less than broken. He swallowed painfully, thumb stroking across Ryan’s knuckles, tracing them all lightly as if he feared they would shatter underneath his ministrations. “Ryan,” he wrestled out of his throat in a strangled whisper, “you know I can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t,” Ryan parroted, his own voice serrated around the edges. He inhaled a breath to fortify himself against the sadness rolling off Shane which made him want to wrap the other in a hug and never let go. “You always say you can’t, but then you show up anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane did not flinch from the verbal slap, though the hurt was obviously visible on his face. He took Ryan’s free hand in his own, despite the other’s struggle, and pressed their hands together, clasping and dwarfing Ryan’s in his own. He hoped that if he grasped hard enough, he could convey even a quarter of his intentions through it.</p><p> </p><p>Part of him wanted to pull away, the part that was writhing in white-hot anger, the one which functioned as armour to the indefatigable despair of being left behind. The other part of him, the one which even now, ached to crawl out of his skin and settle into Shane’s, soaked up all he could from the moment. He missed the feeling of Shane’s hands too. “Stay with me,” he pleaded, not caring if he looked like a clingy mess. <em>Please stay. Please. Please. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I can’t,” Shane pressed his forehead to their clasped hands in despair. “You don’t know how much I want to, Ryan, but I can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan deflated further, his hands growing limp, his mind racing through all the words he wanted to say to convince Shane; but he came up empty. The weight pressing down on his chest was much too heavy for him, yet in a twisted way, it reminded him of a love that was so strong, and he was thankful for it. He exhaled with a shaky shudder, exhaustion setting in, bone-deep. He stared at the top of Shane’s head, at the mop of brown hair which he had always wanted to card his fingers through. “Did you ever love me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I did,” Shane answered rapidly yet naturally, a truth as natural as breathing. He nudged his nose against Ryan’s hands before shifting closer and letting them fall into the edge of his lap. His eyes roamed Ryan’s stricken face, taking in the extra lines and the dark eye bags; the faint and wavering hope painting his features brightly. Although his throat clenched, he pushed forward, injecting his lines with as much sincerity as he could muster. “Ryan Bergara,” he wound their hands tighter around each other, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he leaned forwards,“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan wheezed through the coiled agony in his chest, leaning forward to bump his forehead against Shane’s own. “Did you just fucking quote Lemony Snickett at me?” he managed to wrangle from his closed-up throat, his breathless laughter and unending tears.</p><p> </p><p>“You know it, baby,” Shane teased, easily rubbing away the tear streaks with his thumbs. He rested his hands on either side of Ryan’s face, just holding him there for a moment as Ryan grabbed his wrists and gathered himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I can definitely one up you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?”</p><p> </p><p>Pushing back a little so that he could stare into Shane’s bottomless kind brown eyes, Ryan’s bright grin faded into a soft one; fond and endearing. “Shane Madej,” he began in the same register as the other did, serious and sincere, “if I saw you every day, for the rest of my life, I will remember this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane could not help the burst of laughter which flowed out, nor could he help the tender caresses he continued on Ryan’s cheeks out of sheer love. “You’ve definitely been watching too much Hannibal, that’s for sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a good show,” Ryan defended with a shrug as Shane lowered his hands. The beginnings of a laugh tickled him. “It’s like a goth romcom.”</p><p> </p><p>“It <em>is </em>a goth romcom,” Shane conceded with another wheeze.</p><p> </p><p>Their laughter was as warm and familiar as their silences, and it reminded Ryan with painful clarity that it would not last. When they had both calmed down somewhat, and were not prone to simply dissolve into another round of wheezing like old men, something in Ryan urged him to air everything out. “We never told each other before.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Shane bit the inside of his cheek and worked his jaw, gaze sliding guiltily away to the upturned bowl of popcorn. “And I’m sorry I didn’t,” came his small and tired voice. His eyes found Ryan’s again.</p><p> </p><p>Ryan’s heart thudded in the cavity of his chest, overflowing with emotions he did not have the mental capacity to process at the moment. “You can’t say it now? Even after all this time?”</p><p> </p><p>“If I said it, would you move on?”</p><p> </p><p>It was a blow. Memories he wanted to lock away, memories he wanted never to see again flashed like a badly stitched film in his head. Another location. Another rented car. Shane’s amused smile silhouetted beautifully by the sunset, like his personal halo. Driving up the perilous dirt road, laughing with the crew at the horribly underrated horror, the easy narration and bantering between him and Shane, the unseen cracks in the house, the hole, the fall, the sickening crunch of bones, the screaming. His own screams echoing in his ears endlessly. Flashes of light from the ambulance, and the blood. The<em> blood </em>that was everywhere. Shane’s hands were so <em>cold</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Ryan,” Shane called out warily, his still cold hands coming to rest against his. “Ryan, where did you go?”</p><p> </p><p>He snapped his head up, gaze refocusing, and he wanted to cry all over again, so he did. Pulling Shane in by the front of his shirt, he wrapped his arms around him tightly enough to lock him there, as if he could fuse them into one. Shane immediately did the same and shushed Ryan gently, a hand stroking down his back and another cupping protectively at the base of his skull.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry!” Ryan wailed into the other’s shoulder, fingers grappling like hooks into Shane’s back. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He was choking on air, and his tears tasted like brine, he was drowning in his sorrow; but no matter how many times he apologised, it would never be enough to bring Shane back.</p><p> </p><p>Shane shushed him again, pressing kisses to his forehead and rocking them both back and forth gently in a calming gesture. “Ryan, Ryan,” he whispered into his hair, “there’s nothing to be sorry for.” He felt the other’s adamant shake of the head, could hear the argument building up in Ryan’s throat before it was voiced. “This is my fault, you hear me?” Ryan’s head shook again, and he dug his nails further into Shane’s back. Crouching down further, Shane tried to extricate Ryan from his shoulder to look into his eyes; he needed him to understand. “This is my fault. I did this. Not you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no…. It’s my fault,” Ryan growled outas he curled a fist and hit it lightly against Shane’s wet shoulder. “It’s my fault, I made us get reckless…” With effort, he sniffled and rubbed an arm over his eyes to wipe away the tears. “I should’ve taken care of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane’s gripped Ryan’s arms tightly. “It’s okay, Ryan,” he soothed. “I’ve never asked for that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t have to ask!” he shouted, anger and grief mixing into a nauseating cocktail. “You’ve always been my best friend, and I—!” He had to look away again, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “No matter what I do… you’d still be gone…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ryan</em>,” Shane breathed his name like a prayer, and wrapped him in his arms fiercely. As Ryan continued to sob, Shane pressed his cheek against his, “You’ve given me the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, and you’re the one I love beyond all reason.” He ran his hands up and down the other’s back. “I have <em>never </em>regretted a single day, a single moment with you. You’ve given me so, <em>so</em> much in the time that we’ve been together, so please,” he begged, hoping that Ryan was listening, “be a little proud of us.” He felt Ryan’s hands clench at the front of his shirt, and he hid his own face over Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m okay, Ryan.”</p><p> </p><p>“What about me?” came Ryan’s strangled sob as he lifted his head to drown in Shane’s own wet eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Heal yourself,” Shane smoothed a side of Ryan’s hair, cradling a hand next to his ear lovingly, then running it across his cheek. “You’re a brave little man, Ryan Bergara,” he said with a confident upturn of the lips, “Be brave.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan curled up further into the safe space between Shane’s arms. “I hate this,” he whined with feeling. “I hate how death has robbed us of time. I hate how it has separated us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Time,” Shane mused as he toyed with a strand of Ryan’s hair, “time isn’t just a structure relative to ourselves. Time is the space made by our lives. Where we stand together,” he linked their hands again, holding them up, “<em>forever</em>.” He pressed their hands against each other until Ryan looked at him. “All the time we ever spent together, none of that is lost. I’ll still be there with you.” He gave a light tap to Ryan’s head, “In here”; then placed his hand over where Ryan’s heart was still beating “and in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Promise?” Ryan asked in a faraway voice, automatically wrapping his hand around Shane’s again, very afraid to let go and see nothing but smoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Promise,” Shane smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to Ryan’s forehead as the other sighed. “I think it’s time for bed now.”</p><p> </p><p>Ryan immediately hooked his arms around Shane. “Just for one night…”</p><p> </p><p>“Ryan…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>One</em> night,” he stressed, eyes wide with pleading. “Just for tonight, let me have good dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>Shane’s face was torn between sharp grief and not wanting to prolong Ryan’s pain. At Ryan’s trembling form however, he relented, and lifted them both up to lay on the narrow sofa. Wordlessly, his hand searched for the scrap of an afghan he knew Ryan kept under the tatty sofa, shaking it outwards to rid it of dust, and draped it over Ryan. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan, and craned his neck to kiss the other’s cheek. “Good night, Ryan Bergara.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good night, Shane Madej.” Ryan burrowed further into the other, aware that no one else in the room was breathing except for him. He wanted to cry again. “Will I ever see you again?”</p><p> </p><p>A low hum emitted from Shane, his fingers flexing unconsciously around Ryan, not wanting to let go either. “It’s a big universe out there.” He nudged Ryan’s cheek with his own. “We’ll find each other again, some day.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll hold you to that, big guy.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There was no one else beside him in the morning. The supreme pizza was not touched, congealing throughout the night, and Ryan wanted to barf at the combination of its oily sheen and the cold all around him. Instead, he painstakingly pushed himself into an upright position, and tipped his head back on the sofa, letting the thin light of a still dull morning wash over him.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’ll find you</em>, he promised to himself. <em>I’ll fly to wherever you are. Just you wait for me, Shane</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The muffled sound of his alarm wafted in from his bedroom. It was time to start a new day.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you answered Dr Who, then *ding ding ding*, Congratulations!<br/>(Yes, I am absolutely obsessed with the show, and since the Ghoul Boys watch it too, it seemed fitting.) </p><p>BONUS: If you answered "Good Night" in reference to Horatio's speech at the end of Hamlet</p><p> </p><p>Thank you for reading! Hope it was an enjoyable one, despite the ending. </p><p>Do check out my other Shyan fics if you’d like too.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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